


The Princess and the Dragon

by SecondStarOnTheLeft



Category: 16th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: F/M, Vignette, historically compliant, more or less
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:19:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8674237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/pseuds/SecondStarOnTheLeft
Summary: A Tudor king-to-be meets his would-be queen.Above, the Tudor King watches, watched by his Queen.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tywinning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tywinning/gifts).



> To [Solenne,](http://marthajefferson.tumblr.com) via me, from [Lauren.](http://joannalannister.tumblr.com)

The princess was wearing an elaborate hood, heavy with thread-of-gold, but the wind had tugged enough of her hair loose for Elizabeth to see the colour - a soft reddish blonde, not unlike Elizabeth's own.

"Doubtless she sailed through storms and tumults worthy of Odysseus to be here," Henry grumbled, and Elizabeth couldn't help but smile - he was pleased with this, with the preparations for the princess' arrival and with her arrival itself, for the final stroke of legitimacy it gave their reign. "I am amazed that she is so composed."

"Stop being so sour," Elizabeth whispered, patting his arm where it was linked through hers. "It does not suit you one bit, my love, and it would upset Arthur to see you so out of sorts."

He was not at all out of sorts, but his careful soul panicked to see so much coin spent on something so temporary - tomorrow, it would all be moved, and half the food would go to waste. Henry had spent too long in exile, too long with just enough, to approve of such a thing.

Elizabeth wondered, sometimes, what her father would have thought of Henry's court, but it was impossible - a world with her father was a world where Henry could never be King of England, and just to imagine the two of them in one room was difficult.

"Arthur seems pleased enough by her," Henry murmured, tilting his head ever so slightly to their boy, who was so tall and fair but had Henry's face entirely, under her colouring. "Look at his ears, the poor lad."

True enough, Arthur's ears were as red as Harry's hair, and Elizabeth barely managed to hide a smile - that he had inherited from her father.

"Let us hope that he is more gracious to her than you were to me on our first meeting," she whispered, and hid another smile as Henry's neck reddened - perhaps it was not entirely from her father that Arthur had inherited that tell-tale blush. "I suppose the circumstances are more auspicious-"

"And yet," Henry said, voice soft and hand warm over hers, suddenly. "And yet perhaps not so different than ours, don't you think?"

She looked at him, curious, and he smiled.

"A Welshman and a red-haired princess, daughter of a conquering king," he said, and she rolled her eyes - her husband had proved himself a great many things in their years together, but a poet was not one of them, and his rare bouts of sentimentality were usually expressed better in thoughtful gifts than in words. "Arthur is rather better positioned than I was to offer her a bright future, I admit, but the resemblance is striking, my dear."

That he was being affectionate at so public an event was unusual, too, in Elizabeth's experience. She never doubted Henry's love, never that, but was sometimes caught off guard by his public reserve, so unlike the open affection between her own parents, or even between the Usurper and Lady Anne, before the world went mad.

"Perhaps," she said, shifting her fingers so his slipped between them. "If the resemblance is so strong, we can only hope that it continues."

He looked at her properly then, away from Arthur bowing over the princess' hand, and waited for her to go on.

"I, for one," she said, "hope that they will find themselves as compatible as the last princess and her dragon found themselves."

His laughter was poorly disguised as a cough, but Arthur did not seem to notice, so Elizabeth did not mind very much.

Harry, so small and so desperately excited to be part of Arthur's train, beamed up at them from below when Princess Catalina curtsied low to Arthur, spreading her beautiful deep red velvet skirts wide, and rose elegantly.

"Your Majesties," Arthur called, and Elizabeth wondered a moment who had decided to raise the dais so high. "May I present to your Catalina of the House of Trastamara, Princess of Aragon?"

 


End file.
